Beach Billionaire Con: A Billionaire Romance, #1

By Jill Lang

Part one of Beach Billionaire Con, a three-part series from author Jill Lang.

She was sent to con him; instead, she stole his heart.

Tessa Schilling has a penchant for making poor choices and suffering the consequences… and she’s about to do it again. Down on her luck and in debt, she agrees to take a dubious job, traveling to the Caribbean to hack a rich man’s computer, but she never anticipated finding the man attractive—sexy, actually.

Having lost his wife two years earlier to breast cancer, Benjamin Kent is accustomed to loneliness and jealousy, being attracted to his younger brother’s wife, Patty. After meeting Tessa, who he believes to be a woman named Haven, he finds her striking, yet sparks don’t fly immediately, until he kisses her… then all bets are off. The contact kindles something dormant and buried, along with the yearning to make this woman his.

He should be careful, though, because Haven is not what she seems…

To be continued in Beach Billionaire Con 2

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jill Lang
• Release date: Oct 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386604433

Book preview

1

There was absolutely no possibility of sleeping in—ever. The sound of a baby crying tore through my consciousness, pulling me out of an amazing dream. I had been on a beach somewhere walking hand in hand with a man I had never met. For one moment, I had felt warm and happy, utterly at peace. I longed to close my eyes and go back to sleep, exhausted from having worked all night, but it would not be possible now.

Hey, you up, Tessa? asked a voice I knew well.

Yes, mom.

Sorry about the noise. Misty dropped her kids off early. I got coffee on.

Great, I grumbled. I’ll be out in a bit. I had to hit the gym anyhow, but I could have used another three hours of sleep. Perhaps an afternoon nap was in my future?

My mother ran a small daycare out of our tiny, one-bedroom apartment. She needed the bed to put the little ones down for their naps later, so I begrudgingly left its warm confines. Flinging my legs over the side, I headed towards the door. My daughter, Christina, played with Misty’s two-year-old on the floor. The infant sat in a swing with a pacifier in its mouth. Cartoons splashed across the television screen, while mom assembled a bottle in the kitchen.

I really need to move out.

Yeah, where to?

Somewhere else. Somewhere quiet.

Good luck with that, Tessa.

How was work? Mom handed me a cup of coffee.

Busy. I took a seat at the table, glancing at a gossipy magazine with the words, Best and Worst Celebrity Beach Bodies, staring back at me.

Bet the tips were good. She looked hopeful.

I sighed inwardly, knowing where this conversation was going. What do you need?

Some groceries.

I’ll get them on the way back from the gym. I worked as a stripper, and it remained imperative I stay as strong and limber as possible, having a background in ballet.

Bet you never thought you’d end up like this, huh?

Thousands of hours at the barre … those grand jetés and pliés … all a waste now …

No more recitals … just drunk, horny men ogling my naked tits …

What’s on your mind, Tessa? You look troubled.

Jesus. I am troubled. My life’s in the toilet. I have a five-year-old I can barely support. I’m living with my mother—sleeping with my mother, because we can’t afford anything bigger in this expensive city. Yeah … I’m troubled all right. But, that’s not even the half of it.

Just not sure how I’m gonna make those minimum payments.

Stop worrying about it.

Anger flared within me. I wish I could!

She sat next to me, reaching for my hand. You’ve been so strong, honey. You did the best you could. We got Christina through the worst. She’s done with chemo. She’s in remission. That’s the only thing that matters.

I glanced at my daughter, who played happily with Adam, driving small cars around the floor. Her blonde hair had only just started to grow out again. There’s always the fear it’ll come back.

It won’t.

I hope it doesn't. I don’t think I can go through that again.

You’ve been through the worst. The storm’s over.

Her words of encouragement felt empty. I felt empty. Until more shit hits. My luck’s been really bad lately. In truth, things had been in decline ever since dad passed away. Nothing had been the same.

We make do the best we can. The baby began to cry. I need to feed her.

I glanced at Christina. Hey, girl. You ready for school soon?

She gave me a look. I wanna stay home. Please.

No, you gotta go. I better pack your lunch.

While mom fed the baby, I gathered Christina’s things, while getting myself ready as well. I would take her to kindergarten and then hit the gym for a work out, just as I did every morning. We lived in Queens, the apartment building having been constructed in the 1930’s, although there had been updates, but the ceilings were low and windows small, with views of the street. Grasping my hair into a ponytail, I glanced at myself in the mirror, seeing a world-weary brunette with faint smudges beneath her eyes. I never got enough sleep—ever.

Hey, squirt. Get your shoes on.

Yes, mamma.

I adored my daughter, having gotten pregnant in high school, but her dad wasn’t around anymore … and why is that? Because he’s in prison. That’s why. So typical. Another one of my super great life choices, but it was too late to chide myself for having the worst possible taste in men. Ugh.

I need my coat, said Christina.

And a hat. I reached into the closet by the front door, nearly knocking over a broom. Here you are. You lose a lotta heat through your head.

I need more hair.

It’s coming in nicely. It’s gonna be long by summer. Just wait.

I hope so. I don’t like short hair.

Me either.

I want your hair, mommy.

You’ll have it. I knelt before her, buttoning the coat. There you are. Now you’re nice and warm.

Do you think Santa will bring lots of presents this year?

Yes, honey, he will.

That was the one thing I refused to scrimp on. I might be in debt to my eyeballs with medical bills, but my daughter would have presents under the tree. I would make sure of that.

Let’s get going, or you’ll be late.

I don’t wanna go. Her lower lip protruded. Can’t I stay with grandma? I’m sick.

No, you’re not, I chuckled. Nice try.

I can help grandma with Adam. He’s fun to play with.

You can see him later, after school. I didn’t have time to argue with her. Here’s your backpack. I made you peanut butter and jelly.

Okay. Her frown remained.

You like school. You’ll make Christmas decorations and stuff. You said so yourself.

Yeah.

Come on. I took her hand, glancing at my mother. I’ll be back in two hours. What do you need at the store?

My mother sat on the sofa with the baby in her arms. Coffee, milk, chicken, toilet paper. That kind of stuff.

Okay. It sounded like a full shopping trip.

Thank you, honey.

Yeah, mom. I tucked a wallet into my coat. I’ll be back. Stay outta trouble.

We could not afford Internet, so there would be no online gambling. Thank God. That was one of the reasons mom had done so poorly over the last couple of years. She had gambled away dad’s life insurance policy, the money she had made on the house, and just about everything else. It was long gone.

Christina and I stepped into the freezing December air, the bitter cold seeping all the way through to my bones. I took her gloved hand, walking down the street towards an intersection, which we crossed. The kindergarten was up ahead, a stone’s throw from a dollar store. Payday loan stores and cash for gold signs speckled the neighborhood, along with an alarming amount of crime, but the